


The Nightmare

by Animationfantic



Category: Wander Over Yonder
Genre: Death Glare - Freeform, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-22
Updated: 2017-06-22
Packaged: 2018-11-17 06:23:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11269785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Animationfantic/pseuds/Animationfantic
Summary: Hater comforts Peepers after a bad dream.





	The Nightmare

It was half past two in the morning when Hater decided to get himself a snack.

He sat up in bed, rubbing his growling belly. "Tim," he whispered. "Hey, Tim!" The spider raised a sleep-tousled head. "Let's get something to eat, I'm starving!"

The hallways were dark and deserted. Everyone was fast asleep. Hater padded down the hallway in bare feet with Tim at his heels. It took two wrong turns and three dead ends to find the kitchen.

Hater's belly was really rumbling by the time he found the right door. He flicked on the light. Every surface was spotless and shiny. Freshly cleaned. Pristine.

 _Probably by Peepers_ , Hater thought fondly. His stomach growled, reminding him.  _Where's the stupid food?!_

Straining up on tiptoe, Hater rummaged through the highest cabinets. Tim clattered over the tile, hissing impatiently. “Whatcha think, Tim-Tim?” Hater asked over his shoulder. “Pretzels?”

The Arachnomorph hissed sinisterly. Hater stuck his head back in. “Yeah, you’re right. Better keep lookin’.”

He rummaged deeper into the depths of the cabinets, pushing aside boxes and cans and bags. Nothing good. A collection of canned fruits. Some veggies. A few cans of soup.

 _All this food and nothing tasty!_ Hater pulled a face. _Stupid healthy choices!_

He went from one cabinet to the next, looking high and low for something. Anything.

“Pickles? No. Olives? No way. What’s this?” Hater held the label up to the light. “Low-fat cookies? Eugh, gross! Wander!”

Hater threw the box over his shoulder without a second look. It hit the floor in an explosion of crumbs. Hater threw out one snack after another. Cans burst open. Bags and boxes flew everywhere until the kitchen looked like a battle zone. Tim scuttled over the filthy floor, diligently gobbling up the mess until the tile gleamed like new.

Finally, Hater stopped digging. _There!_

Way in the back, hidden behind a box of cereal. Well out of Watchdog or space nomad reach. A secret stash.

 _My stash!_ Hater brightened up. There was only one reason something this delicious hadn't been snatched up yet. was still in there. And Hater knew just who to thank.

“Ha! Good old Peepers!” he cheered. “Look, Tim. Barbeque chips, full of flavor!”

The Arachnomorph licked cookie crumbs off his fangs. He circled Hater, hissing excitedly. Specks of corrosive acid left sizzling holes in the cloak. Hater sat down on the floor. With Tim's help, he demolished the chips in a few swift mouthfuls.

Hater burped. He sat back, rubbing his belly. “Oh, yeah. That's the stuff. Whatcha think, Tim? Another bag?”

The spider licked orange dust from his lips and purred. “Yeah, good idea,” Hater agreed. “Hang on.”

Sticking his tongue out, Hater scrabbled in the cabinet. He heard a welcome crackle. Hater grinned. “Found it!”

Another bag of barbecue chips, industrial size. It even had a note taped to it.  _Hater’s chips. Don’t touch!_

Hater chuckled fondly. The handwriting was neat, crisp and concise. _Good old Peepers._

Tim purred approvingly. They dove in and  devoured every last crumb. Hater stood up, patting his stomach. "I'm  _stuffed._ C’mon, Tim, let’s get back to bed."

Hater was halfway down the hall when he heard the scream. He stopped short, listening hard. Tim angled his head to one side and whined. Another heart-stopping screech shattered the silence. Shrill, horrible, and unmistakable.

There were no other rooms on this floor.  _Just me and...and..._

“Peepers,” Hater muttered.

Heart in his throat, Hater tore off, following the desperate screams. The Watchdog's door was shut. Hater threw his weight against it, forcing it open.  _Hang on, Peepers! I’m comin’!_

Hater burst into the room. “Peepers!”

The Watchdog woke up, screaming. Caught in a tangle of blankets, Peepers twisted and writhed, struggling wildly. "Hater!" His voice cracked. "Hater!"

Hater crossed the room on shaking legs. "Are you OK?!" he demanded.

Peepers tore himself loose and ran to Hater's arms, sobbing. He was covered in icy sweat and shaking like a leaf in a storm. Hater immediately swept him up, pulling Peepers into a tight hug. and holding him close. "It's OK, Peepers. It's OK. I'm here."

Sobbing brokenly, Peepers buried his retina in Hater's chest. His shoulders heaved with each gasp. Hater looked him over from retina to toe. No cuts. No blood. 

 _He's safe._ Heaving a sigh of relief, Hater sat down on the mattress.  _Good Grop, he scared me! What kind of dream was that?!_

Peepers wasn't telling. He was howling. Almost hysterically. Clearly in no condition to talk. 

The skeleton's bony heart squeezed. "Hey, it's OK," he whispered. "I've got ya. I'm here."

Peepers didn't reply. But the grip on his collarbone tightened. Still cradling the wailing Watchdog, Hater patted his back.

Very carefully, Hater adjusted his grip and moved Peepers to his shoulder. Allowing the tiny body to slip into the crook of his arm. "It’s OK," he repeated. "It’s all right. Everything's gonna be just fine."

Hater muffled the Watchdog’s wails with kisses. It seemed to help. The frantic sobbing eased up. Hater focused on keeping his voice low and gentle.  _Don't wanna spook him any more._

Hater rocked him back and forth, whispering words of comfort. “Calm down, buddy. It’s OK. You’re safe. I’ve gotcha." 

Peepers hiccuped. Hater kissed him tenderly. The cloak was soaked in tears. “Everything’s gonna be just fine,” Hater whispered soothingly. "I promise, baby boy.”

After a long minute, Peepers extricated himself from the hug. He wiped roughly at his eye. “Oh, H-Hater,” he sniffed. "Thanks.”

Cupping a hand behind his retina, Hater gently brought Peepers down. “There we go.”

Peepers sat on the edge of his mattress, just of reach. They’d only been dating for a few months. But Hater knew Peepers well enough to know when he was upset.

Coughing, Peepers scrubbed at his watering eye. "Thanks," he muttered again. "I r-really appreciate it."

Hater watched him anxiously. “Peepers, are you OK? You yelled pretty loud.”

Peepers looked aside. "Y-yeah,” he muttered.

Hater raised a bony eyebrow. _He’s lying._

"Wanna talk about it?" he asked gently.

Peepers looked away. “No.”

A small tear ran down his retina. Hater’s heart squeezed. He inched closer. “How ’bout a hug?” he asked.

Sniffling, Peepers slammed into Hater’s ribs and held on tight. Blinking back tears, Hater wrapped both arms around his man, rocking him like a baby. Peepers whimpered, and Hater stared at him. Peepers _never_ cried out like that. 

 _Man, he's really shook up._  Hater swallowed hard. _Oh, Peepers. It’s OK._

"Can I go w-with you tonight?" Peepers hiccuped. "I d-don't wanna be alone."

Hater gave him another kiss. "Sure thing, baby boy."

Cradling Peepers in both arms. Hater carried him to his room. Peepers nestled trustingly in Hater’s embrace. A storm of butterflies erupted in Hater’s belly.

“I’ve got a spare shirt you can borrow,” Hater whispered as they walked. “Hang on, Peeps. But first, let's get you cleaned up. Remember what you told me once? Hot baths make all the difference. Hang on. I’ll start the water.”

Peepers yelped the second his feet hit the water. He huddled against the side of the tub, clinging to Hater’s forearms.

Wrapping one arm around him, Hater scrubbed gently. “Must’ve been some nightmare,” he muttered. “You’re sweating like crazy.” Still quivering, Peepers tried to say something, but Hater cut him off. “Doesn't matter. You don't have to tell me anything if you don't wanna. I'm here for ya, buddy. That's what counts."

Peepers looked relieved and snuggled the massive hand. Hater rubbed the icy sweat off his body. The hot water seemed to help. Peepers stopped shaking, and smiled faintly when Hater nuzzled his neck.

Hater relaxed. Bending down, he kissed the sudsy eyelid. “Better?”

Peepers went pink. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”

Hiding a smile, Hater bundled him up in a towel and dried him down. “Good. Hang on, I’ll getcha a shirt.”

Hater found an unused T-shirt and helped Peepers into it. It was way too big, but he looked adorable.

Peepers threw his arms around Hater's neck, pulling him into a tight hug. "I love you."

Hater kissed him. "I love you, too."

Never a fan of getting wet, Tim paced restlessly outside the bathroom door. He saw Hater come back with Peepers in his arms. The spider chuffed his approval, then vanished under the bed with a soft hiss. They heard him chomping on crumbs, purring croakily.

“Come on, baby boy,” Hater said. “Bedtime.”

Hater pulled the covers back and gently laid Peepers down before hitting the light. The room went peacefully dark. Peepers stiffened as the light went out. He scrambled closer to Hater, almost burrowing into his ribcage.

Surprised, Hater pulled him into a tight hug. “Hey, Peepers, it’s all right. Want me to leave a light on?”

“No,” Peepers mumbled.

But he shuddered. Hater swallowed hard. It hurt him to see Peepers so upset. The Watchdog refused to look at him.

Hater brushed Peepers lightly with his knuckles. “Peepers,” he whispered. “I love you, buddy.”

Those four little words brought more tears to Peepers’ eye. Hater winced.  _Oh, great._

“Peeps, I didn’t mean to make you…Oh, baby boy, c’mere. Come to me,” he said. Hater cradled Peepers tightly in both arms. He curled up against him. He rubbed Peepers’ back and rocked him and held him and kissed him until Peepers stopped hiccuping and hugged him back.

“I love you, too, Hatey,” Peepers whispered against his cheekbone. “I love you, too. The dream…it was…” he swallowed hard.

Hater tried to say something. He didn’t want to see Peepers fall apart again. But Peepers kept talking. “It was horrible! You were there…and then…lava and l-lasers and you…you…”

His voice trailed off. Faded into a miserable sob.

Hater nuzzled him, making soft shushing sounds. “Hey, baby boy, it’s OK. Just a bad dream.” Hater wound his long fingers with Peepers’ tiny ones. “Look at me, Peepers. This is solid. This is real,” he said, and kissed his Watchdog. “Say it with me, Peeps.”

“It’s real,” Peepers breathed. “Not a dream.”

“Attaboy,” Hater told him.

“It was a _bad_ dream,” Peepers said. "Like, b-bad, bad." He examined their interlocked fingers. Hater gave his hand a tender squeeze. Smiling slightly, Peepers returned the pressure. “It was horrible,” he whispered. “So lifelike…” Hater held his breath. “But n-not real,” Peepers continued.

Hater let out a huff of relief. “Not real,” he agreed. “Oh, man. Peepers, you gotta lay off the coffee before you fall asleep.”

Peepers stared at him. A wet, hiccupy laugh escaped his red-rimmed eye. Hater snorted with laughter, too. Peepers kept laughing. He headbutted Hater and laughed until tears stuck to Hater’s cheeks. They laughed until they were out of breath.

Peepers wiped the laughter from his eye. “Thanks, Hater, for…for everything.” He leaned in close and kissed Hater's cheek. "I love you."

Hater nuzzled him. “Love you, more, Peeps."

Sighing contentedly, Peepers snuggled his collarbone. A warm, soft weight that brought a smile to the overlord's bony face. Hater pressed a soft kiss to his Watchdog’s top lid. “Night,” he rumbled.

"Sweet dreams." Peepers nestled against Hater’s cheek. “Night, Hatey."

They fell asleep in a tight ball, arms wrapped around each other.

The Watchdogs couldn’t help notice how inseparable Hater and Peepers suddenly were the next morning. After that night, Peepers didn’t go back to his own room. After that night, Hater kissed Peepers in public. After that night, neither was alone.

After that night, everyone knew it was true love.


End file.
